Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

59

Some time later, Mhera left Kaori to rest under the watchful eyes of the guards. Aun was busy at a table near the hearth, grinding something in a mortar and pestle. Nearby was a bowl of some dark green, pasty stuff.

"You should rest," Mhera said. "It doesn't look like you've slept."

"I haven't," Aun said. "I'm needed."

"Please, Aun. They need you at your best. I'll wake you if anything happens."

Aun looked up, the firelight dancing in her weary eyes. Below her eyes were dark shadows of exhaustion. She hesitated, then passed her mortar and pestle to Mhera. "Just grind this here, and mix it in. It's a poultice for wounds like ... like the prince's. Do you remember what it looked like?"

Mhera nodded, remembering the ugly wound.

"Use it to dress such a wound made by magic. There are others here hurt in the same way. Most of the patients should simply sleep. If they become wakeful and you find them in want of relief, there is a potion there on the shelf—the small brown bottle. A drop or two, no more. If they will take water, put it in the cup; if they will not, place it on their tongue. It will make them sleep."

"I understand."

"I have tea steeping, too. Have some of it—you and anyone else. It'll strengthen you."

"Thank you, Aun."

"The girl from the city, Atha—they put her up in a cottage with Sashta's family. There is but one free bed here, and you may have need of it. I'll go check on her and sleep there with her. Alright?"

Mhera nodded. The girl from the city. It hadn't occurred to her to wonder what had happened to her; she'd disappeared, probably to wait out the battle in the longhouse. She remembered something else then. "Where's Matei, do you know?"

"Sitting outside, the fool. He's going to take ill in the damp. I will try to convince him to come in. Send for me if you have need of anything."

Mhera found she did not care much whether Matei was healthy or not. "I will."

Aun seemed to vacillate again, unwilling to leave her post. But Mhera said, "I will call you, Aun. I promise. Please, go rest."

The healer smiled wearily. "Thank you, Mhera."

As Aun went to the door and slipped out of the infirmary, Mhera continued the work with the mortar and pestle. The infirmary was calm and quiet. She could hear the wheezing breath of some of the sleeping soldiers, and now and then the sound of a booted footstep as one of the two Arcborn guards shifted on his feet.

Despite the ugliness of what she had seen, Mhera found the work in the infirmary satisfying. It grounded her in reality, at least. Blood and pain—they were real, no matter what; no matter one's station, no matter one's race. And she felt as good as could be hoped now, being among her own with work for her hands.

It comforted her less than she would have expected, however, to look around the place and see her uncle's rose-and-stars on some of the wounded men. Their venture had failed, after all, and though Mhera was not sure what she had hoped for, it certainly had not been this.

She mixed the poultice according to Aun's instructions. Then she made a round of the room, checking the dressings and offering water to those who stirred at her touch. Finally, she poured herself a cup of tea.

As she did so, something caught her eye: the book Matei had given her in the longhouse. It seemed an age ago now. She had set it aside that day and hadn't thought of it again until now. Matei ... where was he? He must not have decided to come in.